


Sometimes I wish...

by soltryce (soaringswallow)



Series: Childhood Lost - The Blumenthal Drei [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, but only because you know what happens, for now they're allowed to be happy dammit, slightly melancholy, teenagers in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-13 10:08:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18029690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soaringswallow/pseuds/soltryce
Summary: It's a nice evening, all things considered. There's dance and polite conversation, and Trent is proud of them for presenting themselves in the best light.They're still sixteen year old kids though, and there's more to life than meeting expectations.





	Sometimes I wish...

**Author's Note:**

> me? writing another blumenthal trio fic? it's more likely than you think!

All things considered, their first high society event is going rather well.  
They’ve been, of course, taught all the important mannerisms of the rich elite - which fork to use for which dish, how to make polite conversation without accidentally insulting anyone, they even learned how to dance. Well. More or less.  
Bren feels like he’s alright at it, but he watches Astrid fly across the dance floor in the arms of the Marquesian ambassador, and he knows he’s got nothing on her.

“Ask her to dance,” Eodwulf says next to him.  
He’s somehow managed to steal a butter knife from the dining table earlier, and has been playing around with it all this time. He’s probably wishing he were back home, doing something more productive than idly watching other people’s fun.

Bren secretly longs for his books, too. But it is as Master Ikithon said: “The most complex battles are fought over dinner and dance.”

None of them will grow into politicians, but Bren agrees that it is important to know this side of the Empire, too. One day they might have to weed out traitors within the elite, after all. Treachery is everywhere.

“She’s working,” he tells Wulf for that reason, and tries not to feel the sting of jealousy when the song comes to an end and Astrid lingers, talking softly with the man while he keeps his hand posessively on her waist.

Eodwulf presses the blunt butter knife into his own palm, as if trying to see if he could draw blood if he only tries hard enough. “Ikithon left an hour ago. He won’t hear. And even if he does… what’s one dance? We’re supposed to blend in, right? Learn what it’s like to be a part of all this?”

That’s not technically wrong. Eodwulf has always had a way of making his opinion sound like the only right one. Sometimes Bren wonders if he uses magic for that at all, or if it’s just an innate talent.

“A real gentleman doesn’t ask for a dance if the lady is already taken.”  
He nods towards where the pair is now spinning around each other to a new song.

He’s talked to the ambassador before. Ikithon introduced all of them to all the important people here. Bren always came first, his teacher’s hand on his shoulder as wordless reassurance.

And Bren knows he impressed them. He is eloquent and witty and he knows how sharp he looks in his formal uniform, with the golden accents.  
Ikithon looked proud of him, too.

Maybe Eodwulf is right. One dance can’t hurt anybody.

“A real gentleman also doesn’t claim a lady for himself all night when there’s clearly others waiting for a chance to dance with her,” Eodwulf points out, “With the way he’s looking at our dearest Astrid, you interrupting might actually save him from getting stabbed in the balls tonight.”

Bren almost chokes on his wine.  
He tries to muffle the coughs as he bends over, and Eodwulf smugly pats him on the back, chuckling quietly himself.

He’s not wrong about this either.  
Astrid knows perfectly well how to defend herself. She’s also too clever to immediately go for the stabbing approach. That’s more Wulf’s thing, and even he has many other tools at his disposal.

Knives are just his favorite.

Sometimes Bren and Astrid joke that, if he ever gets tired of his work, he can always go back home and become a butcher.

But Eodwulf insists that his skills would be wasted on that.  
Bren agrees.  
He is an artist with a knife. Can throw them with deadly precision, can slice and cut in a way that makes his finished project look like they have faint red vines and flowers blooming across their skin.

Bren doesn’t really see the point, but he supposes they need to find joy where they can.

By the time they finish laughing and have used a quick Prestidigitation cantrip to clean the stains off Bren’s shirt, the song has ended and Astrid is nowhere to be seen.

Both boys search the room with their eyes for a moment, then Eodwulf points towards the ambassador, now deep in conversation with the Archmage of Foreign Affairs.  
Bren tries not to look too relieved that Astrid didn’t disappear with him.

He feels a little uneasy whenever they’re out and get separated.

“You’ve been looking at her like a lovesick puppy the entire evening,” Eodwulf tells him, leaning back against an ornately decorated pillar and crossing his arms.  
He looks much more imposing in his uniform than Bren does. At least he has the muscles to fill it out. Bren is skinny like a beanstalk, especially after his last growth spurt.

“Actually, scratch that, you’ve been looking at her like that for at least two weeks now. Are you going to talk to her or no?”  
Before Bren can give a response that would no doubt be more incredulous stammering than anything else, Wulf has already brought the copper wire he wears as a bracelet up to his mouth.

“Where have you disappeared to, Kätzchen? Bren misses you oh so terribly.”

“Bren is standing right here and wants to strangle you,” Bren mutters under his breath, but Eodwulf waves him off with a grin and falls silent to listen to Astrid’s response.

A moment later, he pats Bren’s shoulder and points towards one of the smaller doors at the east side of the hall. “Seems like she found the perfect snogging spot.”

Bren elbows him in the ribs, not caring for who might be watching them at this point.  
“I hate you with all my being. Also, who says snogging? How old are you even?”

But of course, that only makes Wulf laugh once more, and Bren stalks off with a huff to find Astrid.

 

She is waiting for him on a tiny balcony off of a small, tidy study.  
It’s delightfully private, and once Bren shuts the door behind him, the noise of the party fades to pleasant humming and music in the background that he can easily ignore.

He steps out into the cool evening air and takes a breath, his gaze immediately drawn by the twinkling stars in an endless, clear night sky.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” Astrid next to him asks softly.

Bren swallows and looks at her. Her short hair is styled neatly, and the dress makes her look much more elegant than her student uniform usually does.  
When he first saw her in it a couple hours ago, he immediately noticed that she’s grown from the girl he knew into a handsome young woman.  
These changes were always easier to notice in Bren and Eodwulf, with the growth spurts and their voices changing. With Astrid, it was much more subtle.  
Until today when it hit Bren with the force of a sledgehammer.

Not that Eodwulf was wrong about his crush on Astrid before.  
He admires her intellect, her determination, the way her smile is always a little crooked and her eyes twinkle when she’s passionate about something.

But tonight, that crush has turned into something stronger. Something that’s burning inside him as brightly as the flames he summons.

This might just be love.

“I know something prettier.”

His face immediately feels like it’s burning, and he leans his arms on the railing, lowering his head down over it as if he’d spotted something interesting down on the ground.

Astrid laughs, and it’s so much more real than the pretty giggle she’s been doing for all the officials this evening.  
“That was good, Fünkchen. Just try to stay confident afterwards,” she teases.

Bren does not glare at her.  
Maybe he can launch himself off this balcony. That sounds like a good idea.

“Bren…” Her hand is soft and warm on his shoulder. “Dance with me.”

That makes him meet her eye. “Aren’t I the one who is supposed to ask you?”

Astrid makes a throwaway gesture with her free hand, then takes his as he offers it.

He carefully takes a hold of her waist and they begin slowly moving to the faint sound of music.

It’s not the painfully formal steps that they’ve been taught. It’s just… dancing. Being close to each other.

A moment of peace in their otherwise so troubled lives.

They don’t speak. They don’t have to. Out of the three of them, it was always Wulf who needed to fill the silence with casual chatter.

But the two of them, they just sway in place, looking into each other’s eyes and holding on as if that was the only thing that matters. Right now, it is.

The song comes to an end eventually, and Bren moves to pull away.  
Astrid’s hand on his cheek stops him, makes him freeze in place as he looks at her.

“We should do this more often, just you and me,” she says, and then she kisses him.

It’s oh so brief, just a quick brush of lips, he barely registers it before it’s over, but it still sets his insides on fire and suddenly he has trouble breathing.

Astrid steps back and turns to look out into the night, but Bren is still quick enough to spot the blush on her cheeks.

“I certainly wouldn’t object.” Bren swallows. “But…” The rest of his sentence stands between them like an invisible wall.  
They both know all the things he could possibly say. How there’s more important things than this, how they have to put the Empire first, how Trent is not going to be happy about this if he finds out. _When_ he finds out.

“Sometimes I wish we were like them,” Astrid states, turning to stare at the lights of the party. “We’ll never live normal lives like that. Even tonight was all about listening and improving and… do you ever wish things were different?”

Bren leans back against the railing and looks at her.  
Her face is illuminated by the light from the windows. It makes her features softer.  
Beautiful.

“No,” he tells her earnestly, “I can live without all that. I can give myself to the Empire completely… as long as I have you by my side.”

Astrid gives him a very sad smile.  
She knows, just as he does, that their duty will tear them apart, no matter how hard they try.

“Bren…” 

He shakes his head. “We can go back to being responsible tomorrow, ja? There’ll be enough time for that later.”  
And, because he’s seen other people do it and he’s a quick learner, he wraps both arms around Astrid’s waist and pulls her into a kiss.

 

~

 

They wake up the next morning curled into one bed in the room Bren has been given to stay the night.

His mouth still tastes like alcohol and Astrid, and his head is pounding.

A soft groan comes from somewhere beneath him, and he leans over the edge of the bed to find Eodwulf sprawled on the carpet.  
Bren snorts and tosses a pillow down at him. 

Then he feels an arm wrap around him and pull him close, and he willingly lets Astrid move him around until she seems to be satisfied with their position.

He can smell breakfast being cooked in the kitchen, the scent of bacon and eggs wafting in through the window.

But they don’t have to get up quite yet. They won’t be expected back home until this afternoon. And they’ve deserved this little reprieve.

None of them know when they will next have the chance to rest.

**Author's Note:**

> Kätzchen = Kitten  
> Fünkchen = something like "little spark" (it's a diminutive, but I refuse to translate it as "sparky")
> 
> Also, yeah, technically you have to know the direction someone is in to cast Message (or do it like my sorcerer boy and just rotate on the spot while you cast it over and over again) but I feel like I can bend some dnd rules if they fit the story...


End file.
